


Comfort Food

by dannyphantom



Category: Glee
Genre: Eating Disorders, Klaine Break-Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannyphantom/pseuds/dannyphantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaction fic to 5x16. Blaine deals with the realities of having grown apart from Kurt. He turns to comfort foods, but his relationship with his body becomes more hazardous than helpful. Luckily, Sam is there to help him through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on tumblr.

Blaine was sure that in the entire history of his life, the past couple weeks had been the very worst.

He’d met with fully realized ghosts in the hate-fueled bashing of his (ex?)fiancé, a phone call that had left his apartment with cold spots, demons he’d once run from caught up to him and attempting to claim the one he loved most of all. He didn’t bring up the past, did his best to be there for Kurt in every way he knew how and every way he remembered. Kurt had run into the fire like some kind of knight on a steed and Blaine was proud - of course he was - but that pride was laced with a sickening amount of terror and personal shame.

It seemed that everywhere he looked lately, Kurt was outdoing him. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before these skeletons were abruptly dug up and thrust into his life again, but now he was seeing it everywhere. At NYADA, in their personal lives, no matter where Blaine turned, Kurt was doing something _better_ than he was. 

It shouldn’t have stung as badly as it did, he knew that. He was supposed to support his boyfriend. Their relationship was not a competition. Still, Blaine had always had a bit of an issue with being overshadowed and it all felt so mixed in with other insecurities.

Blaine was _trying_ to make up for time lost, time he had wasted by making the Big Mistake. He’d been so excited at first, waking up at the crack of dawn and cooking his fiancé breakfast every single morning, buying a new couch (that, naturally, had been full of bedbugs in what Blaine thought was probably a very poetic moment), doing what he could to show Kurt he loved him. In part, it was Blaine proving himself. He could be that husband that Kurt wanted. He wasn’t that terrible person that had made that Mistake anymore. 

The only thing any of that accomplished was Kurt essentially kicking Blaine from the apartment. Blaine understood, to a certain extent. He knew he’d been clingy and pushy, smothering Kurt in order to feel safe and happy. But even through that rationality, it felt a lot like Kurt was pushing him away. Kurt didn’t want to be around him.

Then, Kurt ended up in the hospital for charging in and fighting old demons that Blaine had never been able to conquer, and it was there again, stronger this time. It was the feeling that Blaine was missing something, that he was fundamentally _wrong_. He was clearly still a little fish flailing in a big ocean that Kurt had already grown accustomed to.

After that, it was a mere matter of looking around. It was everywhere, his failure to measure up. Every time he glimpsed an inadequacy, it only heightened the feeling that Kurt didn’t need or want him anymore. He had spent so much time trying to atone for his sins only to show up and be thoroughly unwanted.

It had him questioning everything; his dreams, his relationship, the life he had chosen for himself. It wasn’t a good feeling, and Kurt’s constant reminders of Blaine’s past mistakes never seemed to let him forget how much he’d fucked everything up. He wanted to talk it out, he really did, but he knew he couldn’t burden his fiancé with what always sounded silly and petty when he tried it out loud to himself. Kurt didn’t want to hear it, and Blaine couldn’t bring it up, so he was stuck feeling it. Feeling all of it. 

Turning to food had not been written out in the planner. It wasn’t something Blaine saw coming, but the more he ate, the better he seemed to feel. It was always a temporary fix, food, which was why he needed as much of it as he could, and New York City had plenty to offer. It absorbed the pain, smothered it under the weight of cronuts and wontons. Blaine felt better when he was full, when he’d gorged himself on the fattiest, sugariest crap he could get his hands on.

Unfortunately, with food, came weight gain. His pants got tighter, his shirts became more difficult to button. With Kurt’s brand new, completely fit body, it became another thing for Blaine to feel ashamed of. Not only was he floundering in all other areas of life, now he’d ruined his body too. Their sex life had always been rather great, but Blaine began to shy away from the last thing they had left going for them. If Kurt saw him like this, he’d only be disgusted. Blaine would only be wanted even less than he already was.

He was right, in the end. It had ended in an explosion of confession, and Kurt had reacted exactly the way Blaine had suspected he would. Their relationship had holes in it, ones they’d both been seeing. 

"Maybe we should put the engagement off until you get yourself together."

It was a nice way of breaking up with him. All of Blaine’s fears were realized in a single sentence. Kurt didn’t want him like this. He hadn’t signed up for a fiancé who was this miserable and pathetic. He wanted the old Blaine, who had been the handsome, charming star of the Warblers. On most days, Blaine wasn’t sure that person had ever even existed. 

Blaine put himself on a crash diet, one of those celebrity and Sue Sylvester-endorsed weight loss remedies that tasted absolutely disgusting. He tried to show Kurt that he could do all of this, could fix the wrongs he’d inadvertently brought with him from Lima. For the time being, they were no longer dating, as Kurt kept reminding him, but they worked out together. Blaine was aggressive with his workouts, abusing the treadmill on an empty stomach and trying to ignore the way it made his bones shake and his gut twist, because he was running towards something, he knew. He could see how his effort pleased Kurt and that’s all he needed.

Or so he thought. Blaine had his weak days. He woke up and it felt like all the demons had crawled into bed with him that night, filtering in and weighing him down. He felt like he wasn’t getting thin fast enough, that nothing he did _mattered_. That’s when he craved his comfort food. He’d find it and binge on it in secret, hoarding bags of potato chips and boxes of pastries in his bedroom like a crazy Lord of the Rings character, hoping Sam and Mercedes wouldn’t notice. 

Sam noticed. Sam _always_ noticed. 

"Hey, dude," came his voice one evening, the door to Blaine’s room creaking open. Blaine quickly attempted to hide the party size bag of M&Ms he’d been shoving into his mouth by the handful, but he only ended up spilling them all over his bed. "Uh…" Sam raised his eyebrows as he appeared, scanning the scene. "Are you doin’ alright in here?"

Blaine was immediately defensive, disgruntled by the intrusion into what he needed to be private. “Yes,” he said curtly, still hiding the bag of candy behind his back even though Sam could see the evidence scattered along the sheets. 

Sam closed the door, but unfortunately he left himself in the room. Blaine cut his eyes at his best friend, hoping his aggression would scare him off. It didn’t. Sam didn’t scare very easily. 

“ _Mama always said you ought not to lie_ ,” Sam said in his Forrest Gump impression, treading around the situation with clear nervousness. He stepped into the room further, sinking down onto the edge of Blaine’s bed. 

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Blaine tried, but he could feel his walls softening already. He’d been fragile ever since Kurt had broken it off, had skirted around inquiries and offered hands of consolation, and he didn’t want to do it anymore. 

"I know everything’s sucked lately," Sam went on, ignoring Blaine’s attempts to push him away. "It has for me too, after Mercedes broke up with me for… being white, or something. But that doesn’t mean you have to do this to yourself. It’s not healthy." 

"I know," Blaine stressed, feeling tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. He blinked, looking away from Sam and tossing the candy bag onto the floor in annoyance. "I know it’s not healthy, that’s why I’ve been at the gym with Kurt almost every morning and every night this week."

"Not what I meant," Sam quickly replied. Blaine frowned, quieting but still refusing to look over at his friend. "You’ve been eating a lot, yeah, but the other stuff is just as bad. Take it from a guy who knows. We’ve been here before, remember? It was just opposite that time. It’s like we did swapsies or something, bro." 

Only Sam would use a word like ‘swapsies’ in a serious discussion. Blaine finally looked back over at him. “It’s not the same thing,” he argued weakly. 

"Okay," Sam conceded, but Blaine could tell he wasn’t convinced. "Then tell me what it is. Come on. We used to talk all the time but it feels like lately you’re shutting me out. We’re best friends, Blaine. Don’t shut me out." Blaine pursed his lips, silently flicking an M&M off the bed as he considered his next words. 

"Sometimes…" he started, trying to force the words out of his chest, into his throat, and out of his mouth. It was a long process. "I feel like my weight and my body aren’t the only things I’m messing up. It’s everything, Sam. I thought New York City was where all my dreams would be realized, you know? But it turns out, I’m not good enough. I can’t make it here like Rachel and… Kurt. I’m not good enough for this city, or NYADA, or _Kurt_. I guess I thought that if I fixed my body, everything else would fall into place. But I’m only kidding myself and I… I wanted to give up, so I slipped.” He indicated the candy strewn around them, but Sam was focused on him.

When he said it out loud, Blaine realized it did sound a lot like a conversation they’d had a year ago in a locker room. They’d reversed their roles. Only Blaine couldn’t take his own advice. Sam was funny and talented and handsome, way more than all his insecurities. Blaine didn’t even measure up to that. He _wasn’t_ better than this. His time in New York had proven that. 

"You don’t always have to be the dude who has it all together," Sam offered. Blaine swallowed around a lump in his throat, doing his best to hold back the torrent of tears that had been coming for a week now. "You haven’t found your footing yet, but it takes time, dude. Think of all the awesome stuff you’ve done. You got into NYADA, you have this apartment with me… You make like the world’s best blueberry pancakes.” Blaine shook his head, rolling his eyes. “You’re still the guy you always were. Way talented and way charming and handsome and stuff. Things just get hard sometimes. Trust me, I know that better than a lot of people.” 

Blaine wiped at the tears that had dripped down his cheeks. He wanted to say more, to confess to Sam how much it ached inside that Kurt didn’t want him, how hollow it made him feel and how food had begun to fill the empty spaces. But he stayed silent instead, too ashamed and embarrassed even with this boy, his best friend who he was sure would never judge him harshly. 

"If you really wanna lose weight," Sam kept going, "then let’s do it together, alright? No insane diets, no running ‘til you puke all that nothing you ate. I’m like a pro at working out, it’s kinda my expertise. Not to brag or anything." Sam nudged his shoulder and Blaine mustered up as best of a smile as he could force. "And if you want M&Ms, then you can eat them out there. You don’t have to like… hide your food, dude. I’m not gonna think any less of you just ‘cause you want some chocolate. I think chocolate is what you’re supposed to eat when you feel bad."

Blaine nodded, deciding it was all probably left best at that. He wiped more furiously at his eyes, willing the tears away, and he slipped off the bed to clean up the spill of candy. Sam stayed to help, offering up jokes and impressions in the hopes of lightening the mood. Blaine did all he could to laugh along. Even if he didn’t feel like much had been solved, he did feel a little better, and he could allow that to be enough for the time being.

Habits died hard, however. Sam may have been at his side encouraging him along, but Blaine found himself easily falling into that routine he’d built. Work out until he felt empty, gorge himself on comfort food, work out until he felt empty, rinse, repeat. The worst part was, it wasn’t even working. His body remained the pudgy mass he’d turned it into and it was with shame that he shopped online for slightly larger sizes. Sam insisted it wasn’t that much weight, that fifteen pounds was nothing, but Blaine could hear the white lie in his voice. It was rather hypocritical for Sam Evans, of all people, to tell him that fifteen pounds was nothing.

Sam kept at it though, encouraging Blaine and assuring him that he was doing fine despite his lack of results. Blaine felt relieved when Rachel’s opening night on Broadway rolled around. As selfish as it was, at least her stress was something for him (and everybody else, particularly tall blonds) to focus on. 

Funny Girl’s debut ended up being amazing, as they all knew it would, and the night was full of celebration. Blaine was slightly embarrassed to see old faces, at first, if only because he could feel their eyes appraising him and wondering just how much weight he’d put on. But the bad feelings were temporarily stifled by a night out at one of his favorite clubs. The alcohol, music, dancing, and togetherness of it all had Blaine forgetting his problems for a moment. It was a much-needed reprieve that he was endlessly grateful for.

Maybe it stung that he didn’t go home with Kurt. They didn’t drag each other, giggling and horny, into a room where they could tear off each other’s clothes like stupid teenagers. Kurt didn’t want him like that anymore. But for _one_ night, that knowledge could be shoved into the back of his mind where it was only a passing pain.

Passing pains had a way of catching up to him, however, and before he knew it, Blaine was in front of his mirror, pinching all the parts of himself he didn’t like. It turned out to be most parts. He grabbed a non-toxic marker from his bag and began to circle what he considered his problem areas. He figured if he took pictures of them, he could better document his progress, and maybe that would help him succeed in fixing them. 

Of course Sam would walk in just as he was drawing thick, black circles around his stomach.

"Sup, dude," Sam greeted, eyebrows furrowing as he caught Blaine’s image in the mirror. Blaine huffed, immediately covering himself with his arms as best as he could.

"Do you _ever_ knock?”

Sam made a face at Blaine, ignoring the question as he stepped further into the room. “Why are you drawing on yourself? Are you making a map? I did that when we first moved here but then someone told me the city’s basically a grid. It’s not that hard once you think about it.” 

"It’s not a map," Blaine said, brushing Sam’s hand off his shoulder as soon as it was put there. He capped the marker, tossing it aside and making a beeline for the nearest shirt he could slip on. Sam’s eyes were burning into his body and he’d never felt this uncomfortable with his best friend before. "It’s a guideline." 

"To what?"

"To the things I need to work on. My problem areas." Once covered in a shirt, Blaine folded his arms across his chest, peering over at Sam as if daring him to say something about it. He didn’t even know why he got this defensive. He knew Sam only meant well. He just hated the idea that there was one more thing wrong with him. 

"Okay," Sam said simply, swinging his arms awkwardly at his sides. It was quiet between them for a stretch of seconds that felt too long, neither of them sure how to fill them, but then Sam was speaking again. "You know you don’t look bad, right?"

"Sam," Blaine sighed, " _please_ spare me the speech. You’re just going to sound way too much like Mr. Schue and then I’ll never be able to look at you the same.” 

Sam chuckled, shrugging. “Mr. Schue isn’t the worst person I could sound like,” he argued lightly. “But alright. I’m only saying. As your not-biased best friend, you’re totally doable.” 

"You once told Ryder Lynn that he looked like Danny Devito," Blaine pointed out. Sam laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"That was different. I felt like his bod was threatening me so I had to lay the smackdown on him. It was all politics. Besides, Danny Devito is an awesome actor. Did you know he was the Lorax?"

"Yes, Sam, I know Danny Devito was the Lorax." Blaine smiled despite himself, motioning for Sam to follow as he walked out of the bedroom into the living room. "So is there any reason you barged into my room?" 

"Oh yeah!" Sam perked up, like he’d forgotten the point of interrupting in the first place. "I found a show on Netflix from the dude who wrote the Goosebumps books. There’s like fifteen episodes or something and I was thinking it’s high time for a brotastic marathon night." 

Blaine grinned, feeling that discomfort from before completely fall off his shoulders. Sam had a way of making everything easier. It was like he was born with this innate sense that no one else had; only Sam knew exactly what Blaine needed and when he needed it. “Nothing sounds better than that.”

Sam had always been a comfort to Blaine. It was in his very nature, it seemed. Lately, Blaine could tell that Sam was trying to sneak in whenever he thought Blaine might be tempted to use food to curb the emotions within. He was doing his best ‘support system’ act, and Blaine couldn’t even find it within himself to be frustrated. Sam was good at it, after all, and he did make Blaine feel better. He’d been Blaine’s safety once before, and he was doing it again. Sam picked up the pieces of Blaine, but he never forced them back together. He just held them in his arms to keep them safe, every now and then offering a couple over to see if Blaine wanted them back.

Blaine wasn’t sure what he’d do without Sam.

Things with Kurt were still on shaky ground, but the better Blaine felt, the less he worried that it would be that way forever. It was when he attended a showcase with Kurt, singing alongside his ex, that everything seemed to change. 

It wasn’t meant to be much of anything on Blaine’s behalf. He was singing with Kurt for fun. He hadn’t planned for the woman that Kurt was attempting to impress to come up to him, bypassing Kurt, and rave about how much she’d loved his performance. Selfishly, he didn’t even think at first how it was making Kurt feel. It was a good thing and that’s what his mind pinned to. It was the first moment of validation that he’d received in New York, the first person to make it seem like maybe his dreams weren’t as far-fetched as he’d been dreading. 

It was exhilarating, being noticed like that, and Blaine wanted to feel happy about it. He wanted to celebrate, scream his relief and excitement into the air. But the person he turned to, hoping to share this happiness with, wasn’t all too keen on joining in. 

"Are you kidding me?" were the first words out of Kurt’s mouth. There was an immediate weight that sank into Blaine’s gut, the realization of what had just happened finally hitting him. He hadn’t meant to steal Kurt’s limelight, but that’s how it had turned out. He wasn’t sure when this non-relationship had become a competition. 

"I’m sorry," he immediately apologized. And he was, if only because he hated seeing Kurt angry with him. He wanted to be happy about this opportunity, but it wasn’t easy when Kurt’s face looked like that.

"This is your problem," Kurt went on, "you can never let anything be mine. You don’t seem to understand that we’re two people who have separate lives.” 

"But I…" Blaine furrowed his eyebrows, sputtering with confusion. They were supposed to be together. That’s what it meant when Kurt had said ‘yes’ to his proposal. Their lives were supposed to be joined. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?

"We’re supposed to celebrate each other’s achievements, Blaine, not feel jealous when the other person gets something and we don’t. We’re supposed to feel happy for each other but all I feel right now is pissed off," Kurt confessed. "You come here and you infiltrate my entire life, but instead of feeling glad that the man I love is here with me, I only feel like you’re here to steal everything." 

"I’m not trying to do that," Blaine iterated, and Kurt nodded. 

"That’s the worst part," he replied. "We used to make each other feel good, Blaine, but… now we make each other miserable." 

"I make you miserable?" Blaine felt lost, blindsided by a conversation he hadn’t been expecting after such good news.

"Yes," Kurt answered bluntly, and it felt like a hit directly to Blaine’s chest. "And I know I make you miserable too." The hard lines of Kurt’s face were softened now, his jaw set to balance out the way his eyes shone under the hall lights. "I love you, Blaine. I really do and I need you to know that. It’s because I love you that I’m _telling_ you… this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” 

"I know that," Blaine said. "You think I don’t know that? I feel it all the time. But we can get past it, we can learn to—"

"We shouldn’t have to _learn_ anything,” Kurt cut in. “We were good once. I know we were. You are someone very special to me, Blaine, but…” 

"But?"

"This is never going to be what either of us needs it to be." Kurt tilted his chin up, trying to remain collected and dignified under the thick threat of tears that Blaine had already lost the battle to. "We grew apart. We grew into different people. Can’t you see that?"

Blaine could feel the truth in Kurt’s words, but he didn’t want to acknowledge them. It gave him that empty feeling again. Even the woman’s words that had been echoing in his head came to an abrupt halt, replaced with what Kurt was saying now, loud and blaring and the culmination of everything.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"I’m saying that maybe this engagement we put off," Kurt said, speaking slowly and carefully as though he were afraid the words might hurt him, "shouldn’t be put back on." 

There it was. Words that came out of months of failure. Blaine felt it in every part of himself, and there were a lot of tears, and a lot of shameful pleading, but Kurt was resolute in the decision he had made. It was over. It was _over_. 

It was over.

When Sam barged into Blaine’s room that night, Blaine fully expected him to already know what had gone down. But instead, Sam held his arms out wide, his face full of excitement.

"Dude!" he exclaimed. "Artimus Maximus told me that your thing went awesome and that lady was all over you, drinking your Koolaid. I dunno, Artie put it pretty weird, but dude!” Sam couldn’t have known how much that all stung now, and he jumped onto Blaine’s bed, covering Blaine’s form with his own bigger one and shaking him into reaction. “Why aren’t you celebrating!”

It took Sam a few seconds to catch sight of Blaine’s face, half-shielded by his blankets. His eyes were red and raw, his cheeks stained with old tears. Sam frowned, pulling back only slightly.

"It’s over," Blaine told him. 

For the next couple weeks or so, Sam was running on full capacity to make up for Blaine’s depression. He was like a puppy running circles around Blaine, getting him hyped up for auditions and performances, cleaning up after him when he went on a binge, offering to watch movies and play video games with him when he didn’t want to go out. Sam was there every single time Blaine needed him and sometimes even when he didn’t. 

The pain from losing Kurt didn’t waver, but life went on anyway. Blaine was doing his best to follow suit. He trudged through the darkness with Sam Evans at his side, trying to make sense of this new life he’d found himself in. Blaine was sure it would never stop hurting, but eventually, it felt normal. He had survived a year of this back at McKinley, after all. The only difference was that back then, he at least knew what he’d done to cause the wreckage. Now, all he knew was that he just wasn’t what Kurt wanted anymore. It wasn’t a Big Mistake; it was who he was. Somehow that felt even harder to live with, but he was trying. For Sam’s sake, maybe.

That said and despite his successes in his career, Blaine was severely lacking in confidence those days. It was worse than it had ever been, and sometimes he found himself with a bag of Cheetos under his covers, hoping Sam didn’t break down the door with something irrelevant to say only to catch him orange-handed. There was no way Sam didn’t notice, especially when their buddy work outs weren’t making any progress on Blaine’s weight, but he at least had the courtesy not to say anything.

Not that that lasted very long.

"Aha!" Sam yelled one day as he walked into the apartment, home early from a shoot, only to the image of Blaine stuffing two marshmallows into his mouth. Blaine’s expression turned sour and he made a show of stomping to the trashcan and spitting the marshmallows out.

"You caught me. I’m terrible and awful and can’t do anything right. Are you happy?" Blaine tossed the bag of marshmallows dramatically onto the table, turning away from Sam as he approached.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam said. "I only wanted to prove that you’re hiding the good stuff from me. We’re roomies, we’ve gotta share." He grabbed the bag of marshmallows, plucking one out and tossing it into his mouth. "I don’t care what you eat." The muffled words only made Blaine bristle, shoulders straightening and defenses beginning to rise.

"Well you should," he combatted. "I’m stuffing my face like some kind of animal, ruining all of our work outs. Didn’t you say you were my trainer? Shouldn’t you be angry that I’m going behind your back and erasing any of the headway we make?"

"I want you to be healthy and happy, dude," Sam said, swallowing the marshmallow in his mouth. "I don’t care about any of that other stuff." 

"Everybody else does." Blaine began to walk away, to go anywhere that wasn’t this confrontation, but Sam stepped in his way.

“ _Blaine_.”

“What, Sam? What do you want me to say? You’re not going to convince me that I look good, because you’re a _straight_ guy who does not want me. And the world is filled with other people who are grossed out by the sight of me. So give it up. The only people who want me are those fake frat guys on the computer screen who can’t actually see me.” 

"Frat guys, really?" 

Blaine huffed, a blush rapidly rising up his neck. “Just forget it. Please.” He made to walk away, but Sam blocked him again. 

"What if I did though?" he asked. Blaine looked up curiously, not sure what Sam was asking. "What if I did want you?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Don’t patronize me,” he said, slipping around Sam and making for his room. 

"I’m serious," Sam called out from where he stood rooted to his spot. Blaine paused in his trek, waiting a second or two before he turned on his heel. Sam did look serious, and it left Blaine flustered, looking down and away and anywhere that wasn’t at his best friend. “Is it that crazy that I could want you?” 

"Considering you’ve made it very clear over the course of our friendship that you are straight, yes, Sam. It’s a little difficult to believe." Sam’s brain had always had a funny way of working around things, and Blaine wasn’t going to let this get to him. He couldn’t. Falling back into that old unrequited crush would just make him feel more pathetic than he already did. "Enjoy the marshmallows," Blaine murmured as he disappeared into his room, making a point to close the door behind him. 

Blaine hadn’t wanted it to affect him, but Sam’s words swam around his brain, avoiding any efforts he made at squashing them. It was just another thing to feel bad about, those lingering feelings he’d always had for his best friend. The worst part was that even if Sam were gay, Blaine knew he wouldn’t be a frontrunner for his heart. Not looking like this.

He hadn’t seen it coming at all, really. The day Sam barged into his room in a backwards hat and a shirt that proudly proclaimed him to be a member of Delta Kappa Epsilon. Blaine was laying over top the covers, dressed in his night clothes like a normal person.

"Halloween has come and gone," Blaine pointed out, eyeing Sam curiously as he crawled onto Blaine’s bed.

"Yeah, I know," Sam responded. "But this is what you like, right? Frat guys." 

Blaine’s eyes widened, his face growing a deep red. He opened his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he could ever find the words to describe how humiliating this had just become.

"Sam…"

"This is your thing, right?" 

"Sam."

"Come on, you know this totally turns you on, dude." Sam reached out, pushing the hemline of Blaine’s tank top up to reveal his stomach. Blaine’s hands came out, grabbing onto Sam’s and halting his progress.

"This isn’t a funny joke," he warned.

"It’s not a joke," Sam replied, and for all Blaine’s confusion and doubt, he really did seem earnest about it. "I love you, you love me. We’re young, hot dudes…" Blaine stiffened slightly at the word ‘hot’, but Sam either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it. "I _really_ want you Blaine.” As determined as Blaine was to stop whatever was happening, those words, coming from Sam, shot right through him. “I figured I should probably pretend I didn’t, ‘cause we’re best friends and it would be crazy, right?”

"Right, Sam. There’s also the little yet extremely important and relevant fact that you’re straight," Blaine called attention to. Sam blew air from his lips, looking just slightly embarrassed.

"Everybody explores their sexuality in New York City," he reasoned.

"I don’t want to be someone’s exploration," Blaine countered. "Especially when I know they aren’t going to find what they want." 

"I already _did_ the exploration part,” Sam explained, looking half exasperated and half self-conscious. At Blaine’s look of shock and confusion, he elaborated. “Remember that shoot my agent booked me with Abercrombie? Apparently their ads are supposed to be like… super gay. So the photographer had me and this other dude all oiled up, caressing each other. I went straight to Boner Town. I didn’t tell you ‘cause it was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me. I freaked a little, and the photographer sat me down and had this talk with me about fluid sexuality and doing whatever feels good. It was weird, dude. It was like an after school special only on HBO.” 

Blaine raised his eyebrows, a short laugh escaping him despite himself. This was all incredibly out of the blue and perplexing, but the more Sam talked, the less surprised Blaine became. Leave it to Sam Evans to have his very own sexual epiphany. Blaine squirmed slightly underneath the hands that still rested against his bared torso.

"Anyway," Sam continued, "turns out the other model was into it too and we uh… _explored_.” 

"So you’re not straight." Blaine swallowed in what felt like a comic moment, suddenly feeling awkward and nervous under the weight of Sam and words he’d wanted so badly to hear a year ago.

"No," Sam agreed, the strong affirmation making Blaine squirm again. "I don’t know what to call myself, but I want whatever I want. And what I want is you." He was looking right into Blaine’s eyes as he said it, and Blaine quickly looked away, the room feeling far too hot and small. "Is that okay?"

Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth instead, watching Sam’s face and all too aware that his pudge was bared to this guy who was claiming to _want_ him. 

"You don’t have to do this, Sam," Blaine told him. "You don’t have to pretend to be into me just becau—" His sentence was cut off by a loud groan from Sam, who dropped his head, planted his lips right on Blaine’s stomach pudge, and blew a raspberry. It was loud in the relatively small room, and as much as Blaine wanted to be annoyed or mad, all he could do was laugh at the tickle of Sam’s breath against his stomach. "Stop," he said, the plea not even half-hearted, barely meant at all. 

The hard expulsion of air was soon replaced with soft kisses. Sam pressed his lips against Blaine’s stomach, against the small pouch that he’d been ashamed of for so long. Sam was kissing it like it was the most precious thing in the world to him.

Blaine’s heart was beating faster than he knew possible. He pinched his own side just to make sure this wasn’t a vivid, food-induced hallucination, but Sam was still there, making a trail of kisses against his skin. It had been so long since Blaine had been like this with anyone, and even this was far more intimate than he was used to. His shame was exposed, and there Sam was, tracing it with his lips. 

It felt raw and dangerous, and Blaine was certain that this shouldn’t be happening. He should stop this, he knew. But Sam’s lips felt so good against his stomach and when he looked up and smiled at Blaine, it was the first time in an even longer time that he felt wholly and utterly loved and wanted. 

Sam leaned up and Blaine let him connect their lips, a kiss he’d dreamt about a thousand times before. It was everything it was supposed to be and more, the feeling of Sam’s mouth against his own. Maybe some part of him understood that he shouldn’t let his best friend be his rebound, but mostly he couldn’t imagine how this could ever go wrong. Sam was the one right thing about any of this. 

Sam had always been the right thing.

"I’m gonna tell you what I’m about to do," Sam murmured against his lips once they separated. His forehead pressed down onto Blaine’s, Blaine reaching up to remove the stupid hat from his head. "I’m about to kiss every part of you that I want to kiss," he whispered, emphasizing his point by giving Blaine’s lips a small peck. "Then when I’ve got you all worked up, I’m gonna make you cum." 

Never in a million years had Blaine expected to hear those words from Sam Evans’ mouth. They prickled at his skin, sending goosebumps down his arms and a shiver down his spine. If there was any ounce of protest left in his brain, it had been wiped away by those words, whispered to him dirty and hoarse and so close he could feel them against his mouth. 

"Was that okay?" Sam asked, his voice suddenly back to normal. Blaine chuckled, caught off guard by the change. "I watched like twenty videos trying to practice that." 

Blaine was sure there wasn’t anyone else in the world like Sam Evans. 

"Yeah," he assured the guy above him. "It was really good. One of your better impressions." Sam grinned. 

"Let’s get to it then."

It was possible that Sam was just another comfort for Blaine to hide in. It was possible that the kisses that found their way to every last inch of him were only a distraction from his real issues. It was possible that Sam’s hands roaming into his pants and pressing against where he hadn’t been touched for too long would irrevocably alter their friendship. All of this was possible, and yet when all was said and done and he’d curled himself into Sam’s arms, Blaine wasn’t nervous about any of it. 

There were times when Blaine felt like the darkness surrounding him was impenetrable. But each time, Sam would appear with his sunny smile and pierce right through it. Sam understood him in ways Blaine didn’t think anyone else did - not even Kurt. 

Because Kurt had been right. They’d been apart for so long, and they’d each grown into their own person. It was the end of their romantic relationship, but it didn’t have to be the end of the world. This was Blaine’s future, his _life_. He wanted to spend it feeling good about himself and not worrying that he wasn’t enough or that he was treading on someone else’s dreams. 

Sam made Blaine feel like enough. He wasn’t going to use Sam to fix the parts of him that he felt were broken, but it was nice to have someone along for the ride who loved those broken parts. And the pudgy parts. And the everything in between parts. 

Blaine could say, definitively, that he loved Sam too. It wasn’t something he’d expected happening, not an ending he’d ever known how to imagine. But it was a good one, he’d come to realize. Just as good as anything else he’d ever wanted. 

And maybe that was the point of it all, a logical conclusion he’d been missing for quite some time. Maybe he could be friends with Kurt again, and maybe New York could be everything he’d ever dreamed it would. 

The only thing Blaine knew for sure was that Sam would be at his side the whole way through. 

That was certainly enough.


End file.
